God Must Hate Me
by thedemonspawn
Summary: He didn't have much. Just a bunch of frozen waffles and a case of bad luck. At least, that's what he thought until Tuesday morning.
1. Prologue

Yes, I know I should be working on my other fanfic, but this idea just popped into my head, and if I didn't write it, my head might have exploded.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. If I did, I would make Kenny take his hood off more...

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Monday…

He could tell right off the bat what kind of week he would have by what happened on Monday.

If he wasn't shot, stabbed, burned, crushed, trampled, poisoned, blown up, run over, or he didn't drown, choke, explode, implode, or die of some horrible disease, he considered it a good day, and most of the week went by without death.

If he _did _die, however, he was basically screwed.

God had apparently decided it was funny to kill him everyday. One day, after being shot for what seemed like the millionth time, he had called into the "Jesus and Pals" show, and spent ten minutes screaming every swear word he knew into the phone. What were they going to do, kill him?

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	2. Mondays Suck

15-year-old Kenny McCormick was climbing out of his bedroom window, trying desperately to avoid the fight that had already started in the kitchen. This was no easy feet with his heavy book bag weighing him down, a frozen waffle hanging from his mouth, nothing for him to land on except the ground, and his hangover from hell.

Yesterday had been March 22, his birthday, and Stan had had a party. Not for him, he didn't know it was Kenny's birthday. He just had perfect timing.

Anyway, looking back at it, Kenny could see how stupid it had been for him to break into Stan's dad's beer, drink himself into a drunken stupor, and then lose his virginity to Bebe in Stan's closet. Hopefully, she wouldn't remember.

He let go of the windowsill, landed in a heap, stood up, brushed himself off, and flipped his dirty blonde hair out of his face before heading to school.

Not much had changed for Kenny since 4th grade. He was still dirt poor, and Cartman still tormented him for it everyday. He still made perverted comments about almost everything…

Some things had changed, though. He didn't wear his orange parka anymore. The summer before 7th grade, Cartman decided it would be fun to steal it and burn it. Fat,

sadistic bastard. Kenny had beaten the shit out of him for that. He now wore one of Kevin's old hoodies, black and fraying. He didn't wear the hood up a lot anymore. Special request from Wendy. She had said he was to pretty to hide his face. Stan got jealous. Their relationship ended for that day when Wendy called him a dick. Kenny let him drown him.

He had to admit, he _was _pretty. Shaggy, dark blonde hair falling into sky blue eyes, and a mischievous smirk that almost taunted people with 'I know something you don't know!'. The scary part was, he probably did.

He was short, it was true. Being malnourished your entire life wouldn't make you a giant, either. He was the shortest of his friends, at 5'9", the tallest being Kyle, at 6'0".

He popped the last of the waffle in his mouth as he entered the school. The hall was loud, people practically screaming just to be heard. Then he walked in, and it was like someone hit the mute button. He just made his way through the crowd, but he couldn't help but hear some of the things people where whispering.

"Yeah, I know."

"That's what Bebe said."

"God, he's such a slut!"

That last one stung. He flipped around.

"If your gonna say shit like that, ya'll better say it ter ma face!" he yelled in the direction the whispers. People were staring at him. His hand automatically went to his mouth. He hated his accent, and most of the time he could hide it, but, sadly, he couldn't control it when he yelled. Apparently, talking like hick was genetic. No way out of it.

Pushing his way to his locker, he found Stan, Kyle, and Cartman waiting for him.

"Hey, dude." Stan said this quickly, without looking up from his shoes.

"Guys what's going on?"

Stan and Cartman looked at each other.

"Well, Kenny…" Stan began, but trailed off. Even Cartman looked sympathetic. This was _not _good.

"What?"

"She told everyone!" Kyle finally spoke.

Kenny wasn't sure how to take this. Tears stung his eyes. "Who told everyone what?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but failing when his voice cracked.

Kyle took a deep breath. "Bebe told everyone about what happened… with you."

The tears that had been threatening to fall, did.

"Where is she?"

"Football field, I think."

No sooner had he heard 'football', Kenny was off. The guys followed him, Stan and Cartman quietly reprimanding Kyle.

"You shouldn't have told him."

"He was going to find out anyway. I figured it was better to tell him and have him hate Bebe, than to wait until he found out, three weeks from now, and have him hate us."

"Leave it to the Jew…"

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman!"

"That's all well and good, Ky, but Kenny's gonna _kill _Bebe now."

They had gotten to the field. Bebe was waving Kenny over.

"Hey baby!" she through her arms around his neck, and gave him a peck on the lips. He pushed her off.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?! What the fuck do ya think is wrong?! Ya'll told the ENTIRE school we had sex!"

"You're angry?"

"'Course I'm angry, ya bitch!" His accent was full force now.

"Kenny, I just wanted to let people know you were off limits. You're my boyfriend now!"

"When was that established?! If ya'll don't 'member correctly, I wasn't really thinkin' last night!"

"Kenny…"

"Don't be 'Kenny'in' me! How stupid do ya have ta be?! Ya'll are just like yer mom!"

The slap she gave him could probably have been heard in California.

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to my mother! We're though!"

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

And with that, Bebe turned around and walked back to the school. Kenny just stood there, a little shocked.

"You okay, man?" Stan put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and turned around. Tears were running down his flushed cheeks, and the slap mark was already starting to bruise. It was funny, in a horrible way, that this wasn't the first time they had seen him like this.

"No, I'm not okay! Would _you _be okay if _Wendy_ told the school you slept together?!"

"I guess not…"

Kenny brushed past him, but was stopped by Kyle. "Move."

"No. Kenny, you need to talk to us about this. Maybe we could help."

"I don't wanna talk, and you couldn't help if you tried! Now move!" He shoved him out of the way, and started running home. Well, maybe not home, but somewhere else.

He wasn't looking where he was going, and the next thing he knew he had stepped in front of a truck and got hit. He barely felt the pain of impact, the only thing that hurt was his head smashing on the ground and his brain getting scrambled. Then there was nothing.

This was going to be one fucker of a week.

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	3. Tuesdays Are Confusing

He woke to the sound of glass breaking. Great, his dad was drunk. Again. At 6 in the morning.

Kevin was lucky. He got out with minimal damage done. Kenny and their little sister, Katie, on the other hand, had to stay during the worst of their dad's alcoholism. Most of the time, he could get Katie upstairs before daddy dearest decided he needed a punching bag. Kenny, however, would stay downstairs to _be_ that punching bag.

He got dressed and snuck out his window again. He could skip. He probably should have. But he figured he would have to face them someday.

"Change?"

Looking to his right, Kenny saw a homeless guy sitting on the ground. Not very unusual, they _were_ in the middle of another homeless epidemic.

"No, sorry."

"Change?" The guy was following him now.

"Nope."

More homeless were showing up, asking for change. Not good.

"Look, I'm sorry, I don't have any change."

He had come to a stop, there were too many.

He heard a car's horn honk from the road, and tried to look over all the people. A black limo was stopped a few feet from the scene. The door opened.

"Get in!" a voice called from inside.

He pushed his way to the limo, got in and slammed the door behind him. A man was sitting in the shadows. The homeless had surrounded them.

The man pressed a button and was apparently talking to the driver because the second he said "go" they were plowing through the people like they were nothing. Kenny grabbed the seat just to keep from falling over, while the man turned to look out the back window.

"Ha! Take that, fuckers!" He sounded young. Almost to young to be riding in a limo, let alone own one.

Kenny stared at him, shocked. He couldn't see his face even when he was turned towards him, because of the shadow. It was almost creepy.

"What?" The man asked.

"N-nothing…" Kenny trailed off.

"Sorry we didn't get here sooner, Matt's a slow driver." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"You were coming for me?" Kenny spit out, not really knowing where the question came from.

"Of course."

"Why?" He sounded so familiar.

"'Cause I wanted to see you."

"What? Why me?"

"Oh, I'm such a hick sometimes, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself," The man leaned forward, showing his face for the first time. Messy, light blonde hair falling into sky blue eyes, and a mischievous smirk that almost taunted with 'I know something you don't know!'. The scary part was, he probably did.

"Kenny McCormick, guardian angel-in-training, and eventual bringer of the Apocalypse."

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	4. Tuesdays Are Still Confusing

I wrote this at 3 in the morning, so tell me if it sucks.

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Kenny almost died from shock.

"K-Ke-Ken… Th-that's…"

"Your name, I know."

"B-bu-but…"

"I'm you."

"Me?"

And with that, he past out.

Waking up to find yourself looking at you is probably the strangest experience anyone will ever have. Kenny had just had it.

He sat up abruptly, staring into his own eyes. He was sitting on a bed in a hotel room.

"It's okay, Kenny, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm you."

"N-no, you're not. I'm me."

"Yes, but you are also me."

"W-what?" He was shaking almost uncontrollably.

"Oh, boy. Okay. I," he pointed to himself, "am you," he pointed to Kenny, "You are," he pointed to himself again, "me. We're the same person, okay?"

Kenny just nodded. He felt sick. In fact, he leaned over the side of the bed and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach on to the floor. There wasn't much, so he just ended up dry-heaving for a few minutes.

"You okay?"

"D-do I seem alright?"

"Not really."

"G-guess I didn't g-get much smarter when I g-grew up, huh?"

He hit himself upside the head.

"Don't be a smartass."

"Hey! I j-just met myself, okay? C-can't I get a _little_ sympathy?"

"No."

Kenny's shaking had started to wear off.

"So…"

"You have questions don't you?"

"Hell yes! Wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would. I did."

"You _did_?"

"Yeah, when I was you. I even remember hearing the exact same thing I'm saying coming out of my older self's mouth. Funny, isn't it?"

"Hilarious. Where am I?"

"My hotel room. I needed somewhere to say while I'm on Earth."

"I see."

"You wanna talk?"

"Sure."

"Come on."

The older him got off the bed and walked out of the room. Kenny followed. He ended up in a huge living room. He (the other him) had already made himself comfortable on one of the couches. It was funny, the older him fit right into the room, he looked right in it, while _he_ looked so out of place.

He took a seat on the couch facing himself.

"So, what do you want to know?" His older self looked like a little kid on Christmas.

His legs were pulled up on the sofa so he was sitting Indian-style, and he was bouncing slightly with a huge smile on his face.

"Ummmm…"

"Don't know where to start, huh? Just ask the first thing that comes to mind."

"OK, well, who are you?"

"Didn't we already do this?"

"No! I mean, who am I when I'm you?"

"Yeah, I know, just messing with ya. Well, I'm a guardian angel-in-training, and you know what that means, but I'm also going to be the bringer of the Apocalypse, when God sees fit that it happens."

"You mean I get to kill everyone?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. You get to _bring _the Apocalypse. Literally."

"Are you serious? Like, I'm gonna put it in a box and leave it on someone's doorstep?"

"Who told you?"

"THE APOCALYPSE IS A PRESENT?! FOR WHO?!"

"I don't know. The man," he pointed upwards, "takes FOREVER to make any kind of decision on anything. I mean, he _does _have eternity to think about stuff, but still…"

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"That sucks."

"Sure does."

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